


World of Ashes

by Hakuyu



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Minor Character Death, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:49:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26423647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hakuyu/pseuds/Hakuyu
Summary: After the Tsukiyama operation, Sasaki Haise struggles with his regained memories. He sinks into depression and suicidal thoughts. As a distraction he buries himself in his work. Without exception, he rejects all his former friends, peers and attachment figures. On the other hand his new partner Furuta Nimura comes dangerously close to him...
Relationships: Furuta Nimura/Kaneki Ken | Sasaki Haise
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18





	World of Ashes

The letters blurred before his eyes.  
Haise took off his glasses, the temple stems clicked when he folded them. Sighing, he massaged the bridge of his nose and closed his burning eyes. His eyelids hardly wanted to open again. How late was it again?  
The hands and numerals of his wristwatch liquefied in front of his eyes. He reached for his glasses, put them back on and still had to blink several times until he could tell the time. Half an hour before midnight. He had completely lost track of time. Here in the CCG archive there were no windows, no way to orientate oneself.  
The collection of documents was an extensive labyrinth. The always same high shelves reached up to the ceiling. The individual file folders stood in a row. Some files were so thin that they easily slipped between two other files and got lost there. Others were so thick that the file covers could hardly hold and tame the abundance of paper. Haise had also lifted this type of folder off the shelf.  
"Binge Eater”. Several desks stood against the wall of the archive.  
With a dull impact the folder had fallen onto the tabletop.  
Haise had turned the pages, touching the paper only with the tips of his fingers.  
The paper rustled quietly. That he had lost himself so much in those letters...After all he had believed that the times when he could completely devote himself to books and different worlds were over by now. He had believed, that he finally stopped enjoying reading.  
No, he had not felt "enjoyment" even now. There could be no question of that. He had believed that reading about Rize would upset him.  
He would lose control. His hallucinations would catch up with him. Rize would come back, reassume her fixed throne in his head and control his thoughts.  
None of this happened. Absolutely nothing.  
The memories that rushed out and grabbed him like a predator - "Sasaki Haise" would probably have been completely torn apart by this. But he was already completely torn apart. Also, he was no longer "Sasaki Haise".  
There were also no more hidden memories. His memories lay before him in cruel openness.  
What he read were merely reports.  
Objective, distant, prosaic.  
He reacted accordingly.  
Objective, distant, prosaic.  
There was not even the desperate rise of an emotional reaction in him.  
He himself or the records - what disappointed him more? He did not know.  
The reports provided nothing new.  
The descriptions of the victims, where they were found, their condition - the reports all read the same. Most of the victims had been men, but he had long since been able to imagine that. All of them had been terribly unlucky to killed by Rize. If only he himself had died that day. The reports repeated themselves. Dangerous ghoul. Rinkaku. Greedy. Quickly changing districts. Eats more than is normally necessary for a ghoul. Records ended with the steel beam incident. Several times he read the name "Kaneki Ken". It did say something about implanted organs, supposedly a kidney. Not a single word about that the kidney had actually been a Kakuhou.  
Nothing about Rize being alive and abused by Kanou. The documents in the file order concluded that the ghoul was identified as Kamishiro Rize. Kamishiro Rize. Deceased. On the last page there was a photograph, along with a profile identifying Binge Eater as Rize.  
Strangely enough, this page was interveined with countless diffuse wrinkles. Like a spider web on broken glass. But although it stood out in its texture and through the photo, there was no new information on this page. Haise sighed. What did he hope to get out of it anyway?  
With his fingers covered by red gloves he stroked over the page.  
Over the name of Rize. Over her photo.  
The paper felt strangely soft, but it was probably just the fabric of his gloves. The desk lamp was blinding.  
An island of light.  
The rest of the archive laid in blackness.  
Outside it was certainly dark long ago.  
Haise was trapped in a miniature city.  
The shelves stood close together like skyscrapers. The passageways between them were the main traffic arteries. And the thousands of ghouls whose lives were captured in the files, were the mute, invisible, lifeless inhabitants. They were Haise's only company. Otherwise he was completely alone. The archive staff had finished work long since. Even the upper floors of the CCG headquarters were sparsely occupied.  
Night shift.  
Here in the basement, the exhaustive hustle and bustle of his colleagues did not reach him.  
The air was muffled by exhaust fumes from the yellowed paper.  
Outside, there were probably still cars rushing across the street.  
Here it was quiet. But every rustle of the turning pages seemed to echo on the shelves or be swallowed by the thick stacks of paper in the thousands of folders. Haise leaned back on the swivel chair, stretched his aching back and briefly ran his fingers through his pitch-black hair.  
Maybe he should go home.  
Into his dark apartment, which was so much emptier than the shared house he had moved into with the Quinxes.  
But it was only right that he had moved out. It had been an absolutely necessary and unavoidable step. In his apartment it would be just as quiet as here in the archive. But he would be able to sleep. Either that or he would lie awake until dawn. In any case, he could be sure not to dream.  
He no longer did.  
Not in the waking state and certainly not while he was asleep.  
Sleep, that meant only blackness and thoughtlessness for him. Redemption limited to a few hours.

"Ah! Associate Special Class! So this is where you hide! Why do you sit so lonely in the dark?"  
Inevitably, Haise flinched.  
Suddenly he felt like a little child who had crept in somewhere illegally.  
You have been caught. He got you. You're blown. He's gonna punish you. He's going to beat you.  
Ostensibly calm, Haise turned around in his chair and faced his new partner, Furuta Nimura.  
The black, wrinkle-free suit. The black tie. The black trousers. The meticulously combed, jet-black hair. The blood-red gloves. Furuta melted almost with the darkness.  
Only the almost sickly pale skin stood out from the blackness a little. The sparse light of the lamp cast blurred shadows on his narrow face.  
Damn. Wasn't he off work already? Why was he here? He hadn't told him he was going to the archives. Why hadn't he heard him coming?  
Shouldn't he have noticed that Furuta had sneaked up on him?  
He was probably more tired than expected.  
Haise gave Furuta a chilly look, which hopefully would make it clear to him that he was intruding. But Furuta narrowed his eyes and smiled broadly at him.  
"I'm busy," Haise murmured.  
"I can see that! You really work very hard - how exemplary of you," Furuta smiled at him, "But how about a little break? You must be exhausted."  
With these words Furuta raised his hand and swung a matt shining vacuum flask back and forth. The liquid inside swashed as it was thrown against the walls.  
Before Haise could protest, Furuta had already unscrewed the lid and poured the contents of the vacuum flask into it.  
The smell of yellowed paper mixed with the spicy scent of coffee.  
"Here you go", with a thin, broad smile Furuta held the lid out to him. Steam came out of the improvised cup.  
"Thank you," Haise replied monotonously. He stretched out his hand and clasped the cup.  
For a moment his fingers touched those of Furuta. Yes, he noticed, they really had the same gloves.  
He himself had put them on to hide his hands, which were scaly and deformed by the kakuja of the one-eyed owl.  
But as soon as had he worn them regularly, Haise saw Furuta walking around with exactly the same gloves.  
Once he had put a spare pair in the desk drawer. They had suddenly been missing. Haise had never mentioned it, even though Furuta was perhaps even waiting for it. But Haise was basically completely indifferent to it. Why should he still care?  
Haise put the cup to his lips and took a sip of coffee.  
Bitter.  
Ever since he remembered the coffee at the Anteiku, the CCG's coffee tasted surprisingly bland and stale. In general, the world had completely lost its taste since his awakening.  
It was as if he had once again become a ghoul. Everything he tried, everything that was around him, triggered a repulsion reaction in him.  
He vomited within in mind.  
No human flesh helped against it. There was no solution, no evasion. He could only vomit on and on and on, even when he was already empty.  
"Does it taste good?" Furuta asked with a smile, "I didn't put any sugar in it because...well, you know.  
He laughed nervously. Did it make him nervous to have a half-ghoul as a partner?  
At least he wasn't as fearful and shy as it seemed at the beginning... Haise lowered his eyes.  
"Yes," he said roughly, "It tastes good. Thank you."  
"What luck!" Furuta rejoiced, "Tell me, what are you doing here?"  
Without taking another sip, Haise placed the mug on the desk. He only moved his arm, never letting Furuta out of his sight for a moment.  
"I'm just doing my job," Haise explained tonelessly, "What about you? Shouldn't you be off work by this time of day?"  
Furuta clapped his hands together. Through the gloves, instead of a loud clapping, only a dull, soft sound was heard.  
"Oh, how diligent you always are! How can I get off work if my partner is a workaholic? We are partners, Associate Special Class. As your subordinate I have to support you with all I have. I can't allow myself to get lazy in the face of your zeal. Please, what an impression would that make? You know, people talk a lot. I've already heard a lot of things while working under Kijima. Things like "Does he do anything at all?" or “Has this guy even one skill?" or "The weakling lets his partner do all the dirty work and hides behind his back.” Soon it will be said > Furuta lets his partner rot in the archive until midnight while he himself snores sweetly in bed<. Please, what kind of reputation is that? After Kijima died, I want to do everything better and get more involved and committed."  
Aha…was that so? Why couldn't Furuta just leave him alone?  
Every word he said was exhausting. Haise would have liked best to make it clear to him that he should leave and that he wanted to work alone. But it would be too suspicious to send him away. Suspicion - that was the last thing he wanted. Haise just sighed and adjusted the thin frame of his glasses.  
"All right. Do whatever you want..."  
"Wonderful, just tell me if there is anything I can do! What are you looking at that's so interesting?" Saying these words Furuta stepped next to Haise's chair and stared at the spread out documents. Haise had to resist the reflex to suddenly close the folder. But no, he did nothing forbidden, nothing suspicious.  
It was as he had said: he did his work alone. Haise reckoned that Furuta would continue his flood of speeches unperturbed. But for the first time after Furutas arrival, the familiar silence in the archives settled down in the room.  
Out of the corner of his eye Haise looked up to his partner. Furuta stares at Rize's documents in a completely expressionless way. The eyes narrowed. The mouth contorted to a narrow line.  
“Oh dear, who crumpled the paper like that? That's terrible," Furuta murmured. He laid his one hand on the crumpled paper, stroking the photo.  
At first this gesture seemed almost tender.  
Only in the second moment did Haise recognize a new, thin crack that went right through the photo. But maybe this was just imagination.  
After all, Furuta wore the gloves, even if his fingernails were sharp, they hardly went through the fabric...and above all, why should he...The thermos bottle hit the ground with a rattling and gurgling sound.  
"Oops, clumsy me. No wonder Kijima never let me use the chainsaw." Furuta laughed, bent down to pick it up.  
After he got up and put the bottle on the desk, he smiled at Haise. Gentle laugh lines formed around his eyes, the birthmark in the corner of his eye rippled slightly.  
"Really, Associate Special Class...you do seem to have an eye for pretty girls. Haha, I didn't think of you that way! But don't you think you have a better chance of success on a date in a café, bar or something like that? An archive for deadly human-flesh-eaters is not exactly the best dating site. If I were you, I'd get that woman out of my mind right away, everything else will end painfully sooner or later. “  
Furutas smile was strangely cold. Maybe he just imagined it, because suddenly everything got colder. A layer of ice seemed to form on Haises intestines.  
No, he did nothing suspicious. Nothing illegal. He was an investigator and it was part of his job to check the files of ghouls. He was doing his job. He killed other ghouls without mercy. Even more so than the old Haise had done.  
The old Haise had held back, had been ridiculously soft, too friendly. His colleagues had looked at him critically for it, questioned his loyalty.  
Now there was no restraint, no softness, no kindness - only complete annihilation of the opponent.  
Haise seemed more devoted to CCG than ever. Black Reaper was the name he had been given. The black god of death. Arima's successor. He was completely absorbed by this role. No, there was no indication that he had regained his memories.  
Or even that he might defect. Not a single clue. Furuta might have caught him, but he would not be able to pin down the meaning. It was all good. However...Furuta's words...café...date...painful ending...could it be? Could it really be? No, impossible.  
Furuta could not know anything about all this. He shouldn’t to interpret things into a statement that could not be. He had to stay calm. He was not allowed to fall into paranoia.  
He caught you. He knows everything.  
These absurd thoughts simply could not be turned off.  
"Stop joking, Furuta, and keep your stupid comments to yourself," snorted Haise. Apologetically Furuta waved his hands and grinned at him. "I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist! Forgive me, I didn't mean to offend you. But tell me, why are you interested in this particular ghoul? “  
Headaches spread behind his forehead.  
Because he wanted to know what had happened during the years of memory loss.  
Because Rize had settled back into his thoughts.  
Because he wanted to know what had become of her. The last time he had seen her, she was tied up on the floor. Insane with hunger. Crying, begging, screaming. Afraid of the dark she had been captured in. She had cried for her father. She had not been the strong, confident, independent personality he had thought to know. He had been frightened and disappointed back then.  
But was all this probably also a part of her.  
No one could be strong all the time. He himself knew too well what it was like to wear a mask. What had become of Rize?  
Had Kanou captured her again or did she live in freedom or had she died in the end?  
Touka had opened the Café :re with Yomo.  
Shuu had survived the operation against the Tsukiyama family; he had not been among the dead and prisoners.  
The plan to throw him off the building and thus bring him to safety had worked.  
And Hinami...yes Hinami...Of most he knew what had happened to them. But for Rize, there was no evidence whatsoever. He had simply been curious about their fate. But the files didn't provide any information.  
What had happened to Rize remained in the dark.  
But he couldn't tell Furuta about it.  
"The formulation ‘this particular ghoul’ is abundantly exaggerated, Furuta. I have only picked out prominent cases from the last few years. After all, The Binge Eater has caused massive problems in many wards. But the records end a few years ago, we are not getting anywhere here. I was just about to move on to the next case." With these words Haise slammed the folder shut. Rize's violet colored hair that wrapped itself around her narrow face, her narrow, deep red eyes - all this was buried under endless layers of paper.  
"I'll take that, if I may."  
Furuta suddenly grabbed the folder and lifted it. He swayed a little under the weight of the overflowing folder.  
Haise looked at him with drawn-up eyebrows.  
"Will you be all right, Furuta-san?" he asked chilly.  
"Yes, yes - after all, I have to make myself useful! I'll take this away and find you something new, just wait."  
With these words Furuta turned around and entered the labyrinth of shelves.  
He whistled some kind of melody to himself, which suspiciously sounded like "Always look on the bright side of life".  
But the whistling quickly stopped and all too soon Furuta melted completely with the darkness.  
Haise wouldn't have minded if Furuta hadn't come back.  
Really not. But only a little later, even more quickly from expected, another, even thicker folder fell with a dull thud on the desk top.  
The slips of paper spilled out. The edges of the protruding papers were creased and torn. Furuta breathed suddenly and wiped his forehead with one hand.  
"It's pretty heavy..." he laughed.  
Haise just looked at him expressionlessly.  
Weakling. He could not think otherwise. Even though he himself was probably even weaker and regretted the thought in the next second.  
Furuta grabbed a chair that was standing at one of the unoccupied desks and set it down right next to Haise’s own chair.  
With a sweeping movement Furuta sat down on the seat. Shrilly, the chair legs shrieked on the hard floor as he moved the chair even closer to the desk. Furuta's shoulder touched Haise's. He was much too close. How annoying. But well...Haise, unperturbed by this, opened the folder.  
The cover page revealed the ghoul's basic data.  
"Gender: Male" - "Nickname: Jason" - "RC Type: Rinkaku" - "Status: Eliminated".  
His fingers and toes started burning. As if they wanted to tear themselves away from his body.  
It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. One thousand minus seven. Nine hundred and ninety-three. Centipedes. Winding. Eats my brain. Nine hundred and eighty-six. Stop it. Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Mom, help me. Rize. Rize! Mom! I want to die! I just want to die!  
"Sasaki Haise" would probably have been overwhelmed by memories again. Maybe he would have fainted or vomited.  
He himself only felt a slight nausea. Too often he had already remembered.  
Ever since he regained his memory, his whole life, every pain, every injury, has been unceasing in his mind.  
No matter if he was awake or asleep. One never got used to this unbelievable pain, to the incessant torture. He just got tired of it. So incredibly tired. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Furuta smiling.  
Was he wrong or was there something expectant in his smile?  
He had to be wrong, everything else was impossible.  
It was a coincidence that Furuta had chosen Jason of all people. Don't get paranoid, don't buckle, don't break. He would break soon enough, he just wasn’t allowed get impatient.  
"Furuta-san," Haise said chilly, "Why did you bring the file of a ghoul who was wiped out years ago? How do you think it would help us?"  
Furuta's smile became a little wider. With his narrow face, dark clothes, combed hair and white skin, he sometimes seemed like a vampire.  
In fact, it felt like Furuta was sucking him out.  
Hypothetically, purely hypothetically, Furuta suspected, or even knew, that he had regained his memories - he had to be careful not to give him any further hints.  
He was not allowed to be too dismissive of Jason. But yes, the question why he brought up the case even though the ghoul had already died was innocuous.  
"Hmm...", Furuta hummed, "The last activity of Binge Eater is also approximately the same time period as Jason’s elimination. I thought you were interested in past things."  
Haise sighed and adjusted his glasses.  
"The case of Binge Eater was never resolved - this case, on the other hand, was settled years ago. It's a waste of time to deal with it."  
"Uh-huh? So that's how it is," Furuta purred, supporting his elbows on the tabletop. He crossed the fingers of both hands and supported his chin on them. With his head tilted, he looked at Haise and blinked at him.  
"I thought you might be interested in the ghouls of Aogiri. After all, you have also claimed the property rights for this girl. But this is obviously not a waste of time for you. Hmm... I must have made a mistake. Sorry, I'm not very good at this kind of thing, you know? There are reasons why I haven't prompted in ranks yet and Kijima has also been complaining about me all the time. May I ask you something personal, Associate Special Class?"  
"No."  
"Oh, come on, don't you think we should get to know each other better?"  
"No."  
Furuta laughed. "Oh, you're so cold."  
Then Haise just kept silent. No. He did not want to get to know Furuta better.  
They were partners - but that meant nothing. It only meant that they worked together. Furuta was there when he killed on the battlefield or gave the unit orders to eliminate ghouls.  
Furuta sat next to him in meetings or in the office. Nothing more. He had no intention of making any kind of connection in this world. Even if he wanted to, he had nothing more to give Furuta.  
"I think we should get to know each other better," Furuta explained happily, "Well, I'll start! You can ask me something afterwards, I promise! So, Associate Special Class, I have been wondering all along where your change comes from. After all, before the Tsukiyama operation, you were a completely different person - a complete personality change doesn't happen often, and certainly not without a trigger. You left the Quinx for which you were like a father. You haven't visited the female ghoul for whom you claimed ownership rights for months. You had the reputation of - excuse me - an absolute softy. Just like me, by the way, haha. And now you are suddenly among the most merciless investigators of the CCG. I really don't want to offend you, Associate Special Class, but I was just wondering, where does that come from? “  
Furuta put his head even more tilted; his dark hair strands fell into his face. His smile became wider, like the closed mouth of a snake.  
Haise remained silent.  
He suppressed every impulse. Tried not even to blink as if it would give Furuta a clue. He just stared at his partner in a blank stare. It was better if he said nothing. Even if the urge to justify himself was strong.  
The Quinx. There was no other option but to leave them.  
When they hate him, despise him. That would make everything easier for the three of them. Especially Urie seemed to secretly hold a grudge against him after what he had said to him after Shirazu's death. It was the right thing to do. It was true. It was better to blame yourself and face the bitter truth that you were too weak instead of clinging to excuses. Yes, since he had long since broken away from the Quinx, it would not hurt them if he betrayed the CCG and died.  
They would not have to feel responsible or guilty for his actions. And they would have if he had always been close to them. By keeping distance to them, they were freed from believe they could have prevented it.  
Yes, Hinami. He would free her. But he must not look suspicious. To visit her too often was impossible. It was better if he cut himself off from her completely. Even if it hurt her. But it was better for her. She would certainly hate him or get sad when she saw what had become of him. But that was all right. In the end he would be her hero.  
One would admire him.  
One would love him.  
But yes, basically there was no justification.  
No excuse. He was long lost.  
Anyway, he had only one task to fulfill.  
"Plus these glasses - do you really have a visual impairment or do you just want to imitate Arima?", Furuta continued, "Ha ha, your whole appearance, you really look like a dark imitation of Arima...although Arima is dark enough by himself, if you ask me. But you definitely go one better! Congratulations!"  
Arima. The biggest obstacle and at the same time the key role of his plan. He would have to fight against him. Fight and die again.  
This time Arima could not leave him alive. He was a danger, a threat. He had to be wiped out. Without any mercy, Arima would kill him. Haise would have no chance, in none of their joint training sessions had he ever won. The god of death, his mentor, his father would take his life.  
These glasses...actually Haise had started to wear them more and more often.  
Without his having thought about it, it had become more and more a habit. Now that Furuta said it...was he really trying to imitate Arima?  
In the end Arima meant so much to him. But Arima might not even be touched or hurt when Haise committed treason. He wouldn’t care. Haise would be just another ghoul to annihilate.   
Dark - this word actually fit best for Arima, although he, his hair, his clothes were so bright that he almost shone.  
And he himself, Sasaki Haise, was no more than a cheap copy.  
No, in CCG nobody would miss him, nobody would feel pain over his death. The Quinx would not. Arima would not. Not Akira. No one.  
Furuta would certainly think so too.  
However, Hinami, Touka, Banjou, Yomo, Shuu, all of them - for them he would be the hero who had saved Hinami and given his life for someone else.  
"Yoo-hoo, Associate Special Class? Are you still awake? Maybe you should have some coffee." "Stop this mindless chitchat and concentrate on your work," Haise hissed coldly and narrowed his eyes. Furuta raised his head and apologetically folded his hands.  
"Sorry, I guess I went a little too far!"  
"However," snorted Haise, "May I remind you where your place is and how to talk to your superior?  
Haise adjusted his glasses. Apologetically Furuta waved his hand.  
"Excuse me, excuse me. I just thought that some small talk could improve our relationship! I'm sorry for this misconception."  
The headaches got worse.  
No, it was not worthwhile to enter into any form of relationship with him. He would die soon anyway.  
Even if he were to live on and even make friends with him, he would only end up hurting Furuta and making him suffer.  
Touka. Shuu. Yoshimura. Banjou. Hinami.  
He had hurt them all, made them angry, abandoned them.  
He could do nothing but cause pain to others.  
It is better to get hurt yourself than to hurt others. How wrong this view was, Jason had taught him.  
So you had to inflict pain on others. Recklessly. That's what he did. While he told himself to protect them.  
He had left the Quinx and Hinami. If he approached Furuta, he would inevitably do something terrible to him, no matter, hard he tried to prevent it. He had to reduce the damage he was doing as much as possible.  
The Quinx hated him so much, his death would hardly affect them - they had already suffered enough from Shirazu's death.  
Would his betrayal hurt Arima? Enrage him? Haise could not say. He had never understood Arima...it didn't matter. He would move on, regardless of the consequences, no more fear of being despised. He had nothing to lose anymore. When you hurt others, you were protected from wounds. But what if you hurt yourself every time you hurt others? He had hurt everyone around him.  
Amon. He had killed Amon, the only investigator who had ever recognized him as a person. He had seen the dark sorrow in Akira's eyes.  
It was his fault.  
Not only Amon.  
But also Hide.  
He had killed Hide. His best friend. His only stability. Hide had accepted him. Everything. Everything about him. No matter how repulsive and despicable he was. And he had killed him. He had killed him. Killed him and then forgot about it right after. Again and again he felt the taste of blood on his tongue. How could he ever forget that taste? How had he ever been able to banish it from his mind? Haise had lived as if under a glass dome, while everything around him was falling apart.  
He himself had not even noticed how rotten he was.  
The glass was good and beautiful, protected him, shielded everything. But he was about to suffocate under this dome.  
How had "Sasaki Haise" been able to live so carefree and naive? How terrible. This was nothing but betrayal. He had betrayed himself and everyone who was important to him. Hide had given his life for someone so despicable. He did not deserve to live. He had wanted to die. Wanted to die so badly.  
Arima had not let him.  
Instead, he had put it under this suffocating glass dome. This dome was now broken. Nevertheless Haise did a good job for the CCG. He worked harder than ever. He did his best.  
Acted completely in accordance with the wishes of Arima. Imitated him. Yeah, he wanted to be like him. He wanted Arima to know that he respected him, acknowledged him. Hoping that in return Arima would acknowledge him and his wish.  
would fulfill his wish.  
"Yoo-hoo, Associate Special Class! I don't want you to drift off on me. Not that I blame you, it's midnight already. Why don't we just call it a day--I mean night?"  
"Leave it alone, Furuta," Haise just muttered, raising his head a little. When he turned to his partner, he flinched for a second.  
Since when did Furuta sit so close to him? His shoulders and thighs touched. Damn, what was that about?  
Why hadn't he noticed this before? He was probably really too tired already. At some point Furuta must have moved his chair closer to him. He had put both elbows on the tabletop. In one hand he had nestled his own cheek. The fingers of the other hand wobbled wildly in the air. "How about a little distance, Furuta-san," Haise whispered sharply. "Hm?" Furuta tilted his head. Grinned. As if he hadn't heard him.  
"I don't think you should shut yourself off from others like that," he explained cheerfully, "Besides, I asked you a question - and now it's your turn.”  
"No," Haise grumbled and moved his chair to the side as far as he could.  
"Oh, don't be like that. Are you offended? You are also welcome to ask something indiscreet! "With these words Furuta winked at him and licked his lips for a split second.  
What...? What the hell was he going for?  
Haise snorted. "Here is a question: Why can't you just let me work in peace?"  
Furuta clapped his hands again.  
"What a wonderful question, Associate Special Class! I’m glad you asked. You know, I think...", Furuta leaned over to him, "...that I cannot necessarily support what you call work."  
His warm breath hit Haise in the face. "You are completely exhausting yourself. You do not take any breaks. I just worry about you. I think people who work so hard do it to compensate for something else. So that they can harbor the fragile illusion that they are still worth something, despite all their shortcomings. But no matter how hard they work, they don't become more valuable and that's perfectly okay. Some are just worth less than others and you just have to accept that. But I personally don't think you belong to the lowest category, on the contrary, I think you are destined for higher things..."  
Furuta's black eyes shone in the dim light of the lamp. His pupils stared at Haise like two infinite abysses. He lowered his gaze a little. But as soon as he bent his head down, he felt Furuta's hand under his chin.  
As much as he struggled against it, Furuta lifted his head with playful ease, forcing him to look directly into the blackness of his eyes.  
"As an addition to your extensive list of strong changes: Your anger. Anger leads to ill-considered actions and you really should think carefully about what you are doing, Associate Special Class. Don't put yourself and me in unpleasant situations." Furuta smiled warmly, then bared his teeth. "I know people like you too well, Mr. Associate Special Class. In the end you'll do something to yourself. Something unpleasant. Do you think that this is the solution to all your problems? Wouldn't you rather use the time you have instead of throwing it away pointlessly? I cannot allow you to continue your work unsupervised. I want you to stay alive. “  
How... how does he know that? How does he know that?  
Was he so transparent in the end?  
Throwing his life away - on this point Furuta was wrong. He wouldn't just throw his life away - he would give it up for someone else. I want you to stay alive? Pshaw! Furuta was completely alone with that opinion...Did he really mean it?  
Did he really care about him?  
Nonsense! He had given Furuta no reason to like him. His heart was pounding wildly against his chest.  
What was this about? What did Furuta expect from it?  
"I don't know what you're talking about," growled Haise, "Cut the nonsense! Let me go! Now!" But Furuta only strengthened his grip.  
Haise felt a hand on his thigh. The touch was astonishingly soft.  
The red fabric of Furutas gloves rubbed against Haise's black pants. The skin underneath began to tingle, warm, almost comforting. Caressing, the hand glided slowly upwards. Every single finger pressed against Haise's thigh. The higher Furuta's hand moved, the stronger the tingling became.  
Hotter. Pulling. More demanding. Heat was building up in his lap.  
"Should I stop?" Furuta asked. Only in passing, Haise perceived that he shook his head.  
The pulsation behind his temples became so unbearable that he had to squeeze his eyes. But the rest of his body, his legs, his abdomen, his stomach also began to throb. Inside he was boiling.  
Since his memories had returned, everything around him was shrouded in icy cold and impenetrable darkness. It was just all supposed to be over. It was as if his returned memories had swallowed him up. He was wrapped in cotton. He perceived everything only dull, as if through a filter.  
It seemed as if everything that was happening around him was not real, not comprehensible. Until this moment. His violent heartbeat. Furuta's touches. This sudden, stabbing, overly obvious heat. All of this pierced through him like a glaring electric shock. All fog was cut through and all walls were torn down. Haise felt strangely naked.   
"Amazing how quickly people change, don't you think, Sasaki Haise?" Furuta purred, emphasizing every syllable of his name, his lips curling, "The shy, oving Sasaki or the cold, unscrupulous black god of death. Hmm, I wonder who I have in front of me at this moment. It's funny how many different qualities can come together in one person. Since then I have been wondering what your real, true self looks like. Show me, show me, show me the real you."  
With a flowing movement Furuta stood up. Now he was bent directly over him. He didn’t leave of Haise’s chin nor his lap. Tender and demanding at the same time, Furuta tilted Haise's head back into his neck.  
Furuta stroke his thumb over Haise's chin. The fabric of his blood-red glove was soft, Haise's skin tingled slightly. Furuta bent further and further. What happened here? Rize flashed before him. Her glowing kakugan. How she bent down to eat him. Eto, how she leaned towards him, gently licking his eye.  
Haise's fingers clung to the back of his chair.  
In the end he had not changed at all. In no aspect. Furuta lowered his head, blocked out the rest of the light. Furuta's hair surrounded Haise's face like an impenetrable black curtain.  
Thick strands fell on Haise's colorless cheeks, tickling his tingling skin. Closer...even a little closer...  
Enough! Stop!  
Haise's hands unclasped from the armrests.  
Instead, his fingers clawed into Furuta's shoulders. He felt himself squeezing the black, velvety fabric and the skin underneath. Harshly, he tore Furuta away from him. Furuta's hands released him. Where they had been, everything was still tingling hot. Haise leaned his head forward again, glaring at Furuta. Looked him straight in the black eyes.  
"Stop it immediately," he hissed.  
There was neither surprise nor anger in Furuta's face. He just smiled. But not even in that smile seem to lay any feeling.  
"What, Associate Special Class? I thought you liked it," Furuta purred, tilting his head a little forward. Tried to reduce the distance between their faces again. Haise snorted disapprovingly. Pushing him just further away from him, didn't give Furuta a chance to get closer to him again.  
"Now, now! You're quite unbalanced, if I may be that honest," Furuta continued whispering. That smile. It just didn't stop. As harshly as he grabbed Furuta's shoulders, didn't that hurt him? But Haise didn't think about reducing the grip.  
"If you prefer it this way, you could have told me something." With these words, Furuta wrapped his arms around Haise's shoulders. The fine hairs on Haise's neck stood up as the soft fabric of Furuta's gloves touched his neck. Hot shivers flowed down his back.  
Furuta stroked his neck.  
Then he shoved his hands under Haise's shirt. Deeper and deeper his fingers wandered down his back together with icy warm currents. Furuta smelled good. Why didn't he notice that until now? His smell was suddenly completely foreign to him.  
And yet somewhere familiar. Almost comforting. More. He wanted more... No. Not again. It was enough. It was clearly enough. Haise jumped up.  
Furuta finally released him. The momentum caused Haise's chair to tilt backwards. Several times the backrest hit the floor with a dull thumping sound.  
Then silence. Haise glared down to Furuta.  
He looked up at him with his hands folded in his lap. The smile unbroken.  
"Rank 1 Furuta”, grumbled Haise, "How dare you? What did I say about distance?" Furuta scratched his cheek, as if he was embarrassingly touched. "Ha-ha, you know, Associate Special Class..."  
"Shut up!" Haise snaped.  
Furutas smile frozen on his face.  
"This time I'm willing to overlook your misstep", Haise grabbed the temple of his glasses, thinking he would crush the thin material under his fingers. With an emphatically calm movement he pushed up his glasses up. "But if anything like this happens one more time, you are suspended as my partner. Keep appropriate distance. Keep the rules. Stop the pointless chatter. Do your job. And mind your own fucking business."  
Furuta whistled. "Amazing, Arima through and through..."  
Haise ignored his throw-in. "If you dare come near me again, I'll..." He left this sentence standing in the room.  
"What are you going to do?", Furuta laughed, "Eat me? Just kidding, just kidding...I just meant, the way you look at me, one could really think...Uh, I think this is a misunderstanding."  
"I wouldn't know what there is to misunderstand," growled Haise.  
"Me neither, to be honest," Furuta shrugged. Meanwhile, Haise raised the heel of one foot. To step back. To create distance. But no, he would not flee.  
As silently and inconspicuously as possible he put his foot down again.  
"Well then," Furuta shrugged his shoulders again, seemed almost a little helpless despite his unbroken smile, "I'll be going. I guess I'm not much help, huh? It is much too late anyway. I should actually be home already, although, nobody is waiting for me anyway, haha. Have a wonderful good night, Associate Special Class."  
Smoothly he turned around. From behind he was nothing more than a completely black shadow.  
His every step echoed on the high shelves. Haise looked after him. Absent, he grabbed the back of his chair and put it down again. But his gaze was still fixed on Furuta. No one was waiting for him...he must be very lonely. Just like himself. He had said it jokingly, but Furuta may really fear being eaten by him. He certainly hadn't said that if there wasn’t a reason. Of course, as reserved and afraid as he was, working with a semi-ghoul must have repulsed him inwardly.  
And yet, anxious and reserved – Furuta wasn’t that anymore. Furuta had been right about how quickly people can change. Despite his fear to get so close to him...  
Why? What was that all about?  
Where Haise's body had previously been tingling hot, growing ice crystals now seemed to spread over him from there.  
The cold, the darkness and the emptiness reclaimed the space that the contact with Furuta had temporarily deprived them of. It faded again. Did he really want to leave it at that? Even with the senses of a ghoul, Furuta was hardly visible in the darkness. What kind of situation had this been? Had he hurt him with his sudden rejection? For sure.  
But he had done nothing wrong. After all, Furuta was to blame, he just didn't know when to stop. Hopefully he understood where his limits were. From the beginning he had been correct - it was better not to get too close to Furuta. But to let him go just like that. To stay alone with himself and the darkness.  
This warmth that Furuta had stirred inside him.  
Couldn't he feel it again?  
"Furuta," Haise heard himself say. The voice was like a command, cold and monotonous. So completely different from how he felt. Since when had his inside begun to detach itself so much from his outside?  
Ah...it must have always been like this. Ever since he could remember. At first Haise thought Furuta didn't hear him. Then his pale face stood out of the darkness. Furuta had turned to him.  
His clothes, his hair - everything was completely devoured by the blackness. Except for the sickly white skin Furuta was not to be seen. Where the black strands of hair came loose and fell into his face, Furuta's skin looked strangely frayed. Yes, at that moment Furuta looked like a ghost.  
"Yes, Associate Special Class? You asked for me?", he purred.  
Asked for him. This word alone was terrible.  
Haise faltered.  
What did he actually want to say? He had called Furuta, just wanted to say his name. At that moment, it was clear to him what he wanted. But now? What now? Stay here, it echoed inside him, don't leave me alone in the darkness.  
What?  
Why this sudden plea? He would become soft after all not so quickly. The less he had to do with others, the better it was. He was not hurt. He wouldn't hurt others. If Furuta kept interfering, he became too dangerous. It might have just been his paranoia - but in the end Furuta would actually realize that he had his memories back. For his plan, he couldn't afford risk factors. He could not forget his plan.  
Deceive the CCG. Free Hinami. Fight against Arima. Giving his life for someone else, as Hide had done. To live and die in his spirit was the only thing he could do for Hide. The only thing and the least thing he could do, after he had robbed Hide of his life. The only thing with which he could still give his own life a meaning. He could not, did not want to bind himself to others. It was too late for that. His time was running out. He would be dead soon anyway.  
Furuta would certainly not miss him either.  
But now he had to say something, anything.  
"Furuta, I have one more question," Haise continued, "How do you manage to stay so optimistic after the death of your partner Kijima?  
He did not even know how he came up with it himself. Probably because he had heard how deeply Furuta was affected by Kijima's death.  
But at their first meeting after the mission, he seemed as slick as ever.  
The Quinx on the other hand still mourned Shirazu.  
He himself became crazy with grief. Wanted to die, just to die. But Furuta seemed to be completely untouched by everything around him, as if every bad feeling would just drip off him.  
How did he manage to do that? Perhaps he was indeed too indiscreet with his question. Maybe it was all just a mask, and because of his question, Furuta would have a mental breakdown and collapse.  
But Furuta only smiled, "Oops, that's what I call an abrupt change of topic. But I will gladly let you in on my secrets. It is basically simple. Very simple. I just don't have the time to get caught up in negative emotions. I just keep smiling!"  
As if to confirm, his grin became wider.  
"Maybe you should try Associate Special Class! Even if it's just like that", Furuta put his index fingers to the corners of his mouth and pushed them even higher than they already were. The resulting grimace was almost grotesque. Haise just wrinkled his brow.  
If only it were that simple...Silently he watched Furuta turn around and become one with the darkness again. Soon his footsteps faded away and the archive was once again shrouded in silence.  
Powerlessly Haise let himself fall on the chair, skimming the notes concerning Jason. After three pages, the tingling in his toes and fingers and the rushing in his ears became so strong that he put the folder aside and picked out the documents of a completely strange ghoul. When he had finished working through them, he picked out a new case. He did not know how long he wandered through the abandoned corridors like this.  
The faint glow of his desk lamp was his only orientation. Like a will-o'-the-wisp it led him through the labyrinth of shelves.  
The smell of yellowed files became stronger and stronger - as if the miniature city of paper was slowly rotting and collapsing.

Haise blinked.  
Everything was blurred.  
A cloudy soup of colors. Only slowly did the tabletop and the papers scattered on it become visible. Correct. He had been in the archives, working and...he must have actually fallen asleep. It still had to be at night. Everything was dark, only the lamp of his desk was flickering. The light was burning in his eyes. He had to blink again because everything in his field of vision was blurred.  
He had put one arm on the desk. On the bend of his elbow he had laid his head, his forehead nestled against his forearm. His whole arm felt as if filled with sand, tingling hot. His head thundered and stung as he lifted it. Sighing, Haise leaned back.  
Something slipped from his shoulders, immediately a goose skin spread over his back.  
He shivered.  
Haise turned his head. A blanket lay behind him on the chair, the heavy, soft fabric hanging from the seat down to the floor.  
Someone must have tucked him in. How cold he would have been without the blanket, he realized the moment after it had slipped from his back.  
This blanket...The only person who knew he was here...With a brusque hand movement Haise stroke over his eyes. Strange. He couldn't remember taking off his glasses. He found them lying folded up on the desk. Next to it the cup of the thermos bottle, from which pale clouds of smoke rose. The smell of coffee blew into Haise's nose. He turned his head in all directions.  
Furuta was not to be seen.  
"Furuta?"  
No answer.  
Haise looked at his wristwatch. Three o'clock at night.  
He reached for the steaming cup.  
Took a sip of the coffee.  
Still warm.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
